


Lost Light and Discovered Darkness

by LordGrimwing



Series: No Home Stories [8]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Cruelty, Cybertronian WWII VR Game, Evil Games, Faction Hate, Hate, Holoform, Mean Autobots, Possibly Pre-Slash, Pre-Overlord, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 18:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10393317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordGrimwing/pseuds/LordGrimwing
Summary: Well before Atomizer wanted to get rid of Megatron, he had his sights set on two other ex-cons. The assassin's got a plan to free the Lost Light from her third officer and one of the Delphi medics.With Whirl's help, how could his plan fail? Once a Decepticon, always a Decepticon.





	

 “What could you have possibly been doing at this hour to pop out a pedial piston?” The poorly painted medic asked dully, deftly refilling the oil in one of Drift’s ankle pistons.

    The officer grimaced, graphite colored servos scratching at a thigh guard. “Would you believe it if I said yoga?”

    “No.” Flat, monotonous, the tone the sturdy mech typical used with patients. “But I’ll accept it.” Grabbing a philip's screwdriver, the ward manager set about replacing Drift’s foot and ankle armor.     

    “Done already?”

    The medic didn’t reply, only nodding as he secured the last of the plating. That done, he helped the third officer of the Lost Light off the exam birth. Drift winced, ankle joint very sore from his little accident on the observation deck. At least he wasn’t getting incessant pings about internal damage; those had really been annoying while limping to the med bay. Drift followed the medic on night shift over to his desk, taking the offered data pad and signing his name, signifying that, yes, he had come to the med bay at an unholy hour because he ‘hurt himself doing yoga’.

    “You can be on your way now.” The medic sat behind the desk, setting aside the data pad for later filing.

    Drift smiled, glad it hadn’t taken long. “Thanks First Aid!” He froze. The surviving Delphi medical team may have only transferred on a few days ago, but he was sure that was not the cherry ex-doctor-former-nurse-now-trainee-chief-medical-officer. Slowly, embarrassment making his finials wiggle, Drift turned back to the seat health professional. “I am so sorry.”

    “It’s okay.” The patchily painted mech didn’t meet the officers gaze. “Folks get Aid and I confused all the time.” His tone hadn’t changed at all.

    “Really?” Drift wasn’t the only one?

    “No.”    

    Yeah, that’s what he’d thought. Seeing the other returning to his work, Drift decided to face the music and just ask. “What is your name then?” He’d probably heard it before, but--hey--life was busy as third officer to Rodimus, he couldn’t remember everything.

    Looking up from a stack of supplies files, the other mech gave him a dour frown. “Ambulon.” Yellow rimmed helm tilting down, he returned to his work.

    “Well, thanks for your assistance.” Drift strode to the door, processor insisting there was something important about the former ward manager of Delphi. Perhaps he’d remember after some recharge.

    “It’s my job.” Ambulon muttered, stylus sliding over a report. With any luck, no one else would be coming in and he could get caught up on the inventory and needs lists before First Aid came in for morning shift.

    Silence lasted for about an hour before a red and yellow mech, optical visor set in hard lines. A crossbow held easily over a shoulder

    “Can I help you . . .” it took a moment to filter through the medical roster of the crew. “Atomizer?”

    “Yeah. You can.”

 

    Drift hadn’t been doing yoga. No, as he lay on the recharge slab in his room, he thought back to events earlier that evening.

    Ultra Magnus insisted on holding a debriefing every evening. The meeting never lasted more than ten minutes, Rodimus had a way of getting under everyone’s plating in the evenings. When Drift stepped out--leaving Magnus to lecture Rodimus about proper etiquette--he wanted nothing more than to find a quiet corner at Swerve’s, get stoned, and pass out in his hab room. However, those were the thoughts of Deadlock and Drift hadn’t spent the last few thousand years overcoming him only to slip up now. Thus, he headed toward a lift, planning on sitting in the observation deck until he felt tired enough to recharge.

    Whirl joined him on the left a few floors up. The ex-wrecker hissed to himself, pinchers clacking and twisting as he leaned against the door. Drift kept to his side of the lift, uninterested in starting anything with the large mech. The officer breathed a sigh of relief when Whirl didn’t get off with him. There was just something (read everything) about the mech that made him uncomfortable.

    The observation deck was quite, deserted except for Chromedome and Rewind who sat on the far side, and the perfect place to sit and meditate for a while. Drift must have sat near the door for almost an hour before it opened, and two mechs walked in, stopping just behind him.

    Grumbling, Drift opened his optics. “What do you want Atomizer?” The officer didn’t have much occasion to interact with the red assassin, and he made his feelings on Drift’s ‘kind’ very clear.

    “Whirl and I just wanted to ask you something, ‘con.” Atomizer said.

    Drift turned slowly toward the pair. Sure enough, Whirl was there, solitary optic creased into a frown. “What about?”

    “Well, it’s like this.” Atomizer stepped closer, casually finger the his crossbow’s trigger. “We’ve got this party starting in hangar 13 and want you to show up.”

    Drift rose to his peds, servos hovering over sword hilts. “I’m going to have to say no.”

    Whirl stepped up, almost flush with Drift’s back struts, pincers raised over the smaller mech’s helm. “Oh come on.” The heli former whined. “It’ll be no fun if you don’t show hippie. None of the games are single player.”

    “Good thing you’ve got Atomizer then.” Drift scowled, beginning to feel trapped. “I’m leaving.” He went to shove past the red and yellow mech.

    “I don’t think so.” Whirl slammed the tip of one of his oddly shaped peds into Drift’s ankle. He stumbled and fail, Atomizer coming to crouch by the white mech’s helm.  

    “Think about it. Party ain’t starting for a few hours yet.” The assassin stood. “Let’s go Whirl. I think there’s another of his kind that needs a personal invite too.” The pair walked off, leaving Drift on the ground, clutching at the broken piston in his ankle, and Chromedome and Rewind on the other side of the large room, acting as if they hadn’t noticed a thing.

    After that, Drift went to the med bay and been repaired by Ambulon. Now, his accursed processor wouldn’t shut up about there being something important about the ill-painted medic. It was really quite annoying, all he wanted was to fall into recharge and forget about the whole night. But his mind wouldn’t shut up! What so important about another ex-con.

    Ex-con? Where’d that come from? Drift was almost positive he hadn’t heard it from a crew mate, and he hadn’t had that much attention to spare back on Messatine--obviously. His paint. Not the patchy Autobot medical colors, but the original coat showing in the gaps. He recognized Ambulon’s purple and blue color pattern as the one given to all Decepticon MTO medics.

    Atomizer and Whirl had gone to find Ambulon.

    Drift threw himself from the recharge slab, scrambling to sheath his short swords, and ran for the med bay. Sliding through the open doors, he found the large room deserted, the data pads on the desk when he’d left were now dumped on the floor. Drift cursed, whatever Atomizer was up to couldn’t be good, duobly so with Whirl helping him.

    Hangar 13. that ‘s where the ‘party’--certainly wasn’t going to be for the two ex-cons on the ship--was going to be. Snarling, Drift dashed down the halls, making his way to what he was almost sure would be a trap. It didn’t matter, even if they’d never met in their prior factions, even if they hardly knew each other now, Drift wasn’t going to let some upstart Autobots mess with his brother-in-arms just because he’d been made by the wrong faction.

    “I am so glad to see you’ve decided to join the party, you’re only a few minutes late!” Atomizer called as Drift turn the last corner, sparks flying as he skidded to a stop in front of the two mechs who accosted him earlier. Whirl stood just behind his red associate, seeming almost to smile as he held a blaster up to Ambulon’s lowered helm.

    “As a superior officer, I am ordering the both of you to let Ambulon go.” Drift let a growl grow in the back of his throat.

    “Mm, no.” Whirl tapped the gun barrel against the side of ward manager’s helm. Drift was now almost certain Ambulon was off line.

    “You see,” Atomizer holstered his cross bow, pulling out a data chip at tossing it to the ex-con. “Hideous D-con over here’s already join the party. You’ll need to download the data in that chip and project a holoform into the hangar if you want to join.”

    Drift looked clinically at the chip. “You really think I’m going to load some code into me when it comes from you.” He snarled, free servo gripping a sword hilt.

    Atomizer raised his servos in a falsely placating way. “I’m not going to make you. But as Whirl said, it’s really not a single player game in there.” His smile almost became visible. “I doubt things are going well for you traitor pall. Being alone and all.” At these words, Ambulon’s frame gave a series of small twitches.

    Drift paused. Holoform projection certainly limited the risk of entering the hangar, but leave his actual frame vulnerable. If he didn’t project, instead tried take on both Atomizer and Whirl, the Lost Light would be down a medic. He knew the option Deadlock would have chosen and Drift was momentarily disturbed he knew that before he knew would his own choice. Sending an emergency ping out to Ultra Magnus, Drift slammed the chip into a data port on his arm and projected into the hangar.        

 

    PLAYER DRIFT STATUS

    SPECIES: HUMAN [JAPANESE]

    HEALTH: 100% [UNINJURED]

    TEAM: AXIS [RED]

    MISSION: ACQUIRE PARTNER [IN PROGRESS]

    ALERT: WARNING! APPROACHING EXPLOSIVE PROJECTILE   

 

    Drift through himself to the ground, rolling down the grassy knoll he been crouched on. Moments later, the top of said knoll disappeared in a fiery explosion. He panted on the heavily trodden ground, gray-green uniform rumpled, white arm-band ascue with the red glyph off-center. Clutching the katana tied to his thick leather belt, Drift scrambled to the nearby trench, helmet and canten bouncing against his haversack as the disoriented soldier all but threw himself into the marginally safer area.

    And right on top of a man. Shrieking in pain and fright, the grey uniformed man scrambled to the trench’s other side, limping noticeably.

    “Vhat zee Vehrmacht!” The man shouted in a heavy accent. Helmet pulled low, uniform stained with blood, medal cases hooked to a narrow belt, and red crossed stitched onto a white band just above his elbow, Drift easily identified the man as a terrified human field medic. He also knew enough Earth history to recognize the silver eagle embroidered over the man’s heart and the swastika it held in its talons. Drift sat only a few feet away from a Nazi.

 

    PLAYER AMBULON STATUS

    SPECIES: HUMAN [GERMAN]

    HEALTH: 85% [INJURED]

    TEAM: AXIS [RED]

  


    PLAYER DRIFT STATUS

    SPECIES: HUMAN [JAPANESE]

    HEALTH: 100% [UNINJURED]

    TEAM: AXIS [RED]

    MISSION: ACQUIRE PARTNER [COMPLETED]

    MISSION: CROSS ENEMY LINES [IN PROGRESS]   

**Author's Note:**

> I may end up continuing this. Does anyone want to see more?
> 
> And don't expect this WW2 game to be very accurate with actual events.


End file.
